The WordMobile.

The Literature Car.

I swerve into the road, the gas pedal on the floor of the wordmobile, screaming

“ Visuals ain’t a thing. ”

I paint with words now; so it’s forever on — inconsistency leaves the deepest cuts. It could get dark when you forget life is but a dream, so I’m lucid on page, the dictionary is by my side like a sword in this dream. No weapon formed against us…Heaven gave us its word.

I swerve right onto a blank page, and duck the politics lane. The broadcast lecturer asked the whole class if anyone had seen the voice of the youth — said it used to be loud back in his day. I know for a fact I caught that bullet. I scream art in my head, but have never touched on any impartant concern that affects our society.

I told homie this time the actions will move the word. The voice of the youth will be televised — the human brain is clearer than any visual ingine the human brain ever made; I told my people about the might of the pen too.

Switch up gears and let the sound get lost in the the cloud, and since words can’t crush here, the dash reads like 550 km/hr; No lie — I’ll let the wordmobile new car scent reak on a page. I’ve just been sold into literature, and drove off of a visual canvas in The WordMobile.

No Police on this literature lane too, but I’ll overtake that thought, with this type of horse power, with which we should be beyond that. Been trying to trap some of life in a manuscript too. A year from now, I will stand on enough to dive into #NaNoWriMo too.

She asked me what I do these days. I’m driving words on a page like that is the new fashion.

I’m looking up Shakespeare lately, figured, I have more tools than him and Picasso had back in their time…so I pray for life, and pack assurance the 80 somethings will find a million miles on my word mobile; at least.

And at that age, I’ll still be doing triple the speed limit of that time on a page, still blasting Reasonable Doubt, packing the understanding that it’s okay if that’s what’s on the outside, but pop out the window still, and scream “ I have none in me! ” Have the WordMobile swerve, crush, and fly into the rolling in the air , but its okay, that’ll only cost a couple of words.

Plus I land it back on it’s fours, my foot maintaining on the floor with the gas pedal. This is the Need For Words, the Bic pen is held like a paint brush in between the thump and index.

And just like that: The WordMobile; The most luxurious expression engine! Thanks for Driving with me.

But I’ll have to leave you here…

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